


You look as if you've seen a ghost!

by thepeopletoomustrise



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil
Genre: Gen, Ghosts, M/M, this is the stupidest thing i've ever written but hey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-26
Updated: 2013-06-26
Packaged: 2017-12-16 05:51:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/858574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepeopletoomustrise/pseuds/thepeopletoomustrise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"During the empty chairs at empty tables scene when Marius is getting really emotional, Enjolras' ghost comes back, positively outraged that there was still furniture in the room."</p>
            </blockquote>





	You look as if you've seen a ghost!

**Author's Note:**

> I apologize in advance. It's four in the morning and my writing is terrible and probably inaccurate but whatever.

_Oh my friends, my friends, don’t ask me_

_What your sacrifice was for_

_Empty chairs at empty tables_

_Where my –_

“Are you _fucking_ kidding me?”

 

Marius is interrupted by a voice and he jolts in his chair, surprised mainly that anyone would dare venture into his private angst time. He scrabbles at his face, though it remains wet with tears, and sits up in the chair he’s sitting in – it’s a pitiful attempt at regaining his composure, but he assumes it’s better than continuing to openly weep by himself. He waits for someone to walk up the stairs, to interrupt fully with presence, to… “Did I not remind them to use these pieces of furniture as well? Did I not declare the necessity in the use of the furniture in the entirety of the building?”

 

Wait, that sounds like…

 

“I did, I know I did! Ignorance, the true declension of this fraudulent society!” Yes, definitely Enjolras; Marius concludes this when he sees his blonde friend walk in front of him.

 

Wait. What?

 

He assumes he’s hearing things, seeing things, that he’s having some sort of slow breakdown in his psyche prompted by a nasty form of mourning. He blinks and wipes away his tears once more, watching his mind’s projection of the man in front of him, “You’re not real,” he insists.

 

“That’s no way to great your fallen friend, Marius, pierced by eight bullets in valiant battle…” he replies. After that, he mutters a bitter whisper of “Bonapartist.”

 

“You exist in nothing more than my imagination,” Marius insists, blinking.

 

But this Enjolras is not listening to him and remains preoccupied by ogling the empty furniture in disbelief. He clucks his tongue, “I told them! I told everyone; they knew of the importance of the gathering pieces such as these; no one was stranger to the urgency; why express a disquisition on the proper formation of the barricade if not to gain a single ear that acts upon said instructions? This is preposterous!”

 

Marius just watches, in awe of the elaborate scenario his brain has seemingly constructed.

 

It’s then when Combeferre floats through the wall hurriedly, and Marius does a double-take, which is actually more like a quadruple-take due to the fact that he’s drowning in disbelief.

 

“Enjolras! _”_ He cries, and he adjusts his glasses when he turns to Marius apologetically, “I provide my apologies, Marius – you see, Enjolras is not content with his current state of being and, due to his unsettled state of mind, made the decision to come back here, which was not the most logical choice in the opinion of the rest of us…”

 

Marius watches the two men with wide eyes.

 

“Combeferre,” Enjolras turns to his friend, gritting teeth as he snaps, “What is it you see in this room?”

 

“I see Marius.”

 

“Thank you, oh splendid intellectual. _Other than_ Marius, what do you see?”

 

“I see…” Combeferre looks around, “…chairs. And a few tables.”

 

“Empty chairs at empty tables,” Marius corrects him.

 

Enjolras looks at both of them in exasperation; Marius was certain that if he had actually existed he would have thrown the chairs at the wall, “Why did said items not become a part of the _barricade?!”_

 

Combeferre rolls his eyes and shakes his head in annoyance; he gestures at Enjolras to follow him, “Time to go. Come along, now. You’re worrying Joly sick.”

 

“I made myself very clear, Combeferre! Very clear! These pieces were meant to fall upon the left side of the barricade, on the top! And did they end up where they were meant? No! This kind of incompetence is to blame for societal problems; for the corrupt systems we fight against!”

 

“Enjolras…”

 

“To whom did I assign this room?” he mutters, dragging a tired hand across his face, “Not that it should matter as much as it does; the system of a Republic works as a group, not within single individuals, and _someone_ should have taken such responsibility to follow through, whether it was their explicit duty or not…”

 

Combeferre sighs and thinks for a moment, exchanging another apologetic glance to Marius as he says, “Grantaire.”

 

“I should have expected this sort of ineptitude to following instructions from Grantaire!”

 

“Yes,” Combeferre nods, “It is not unforeseen. Nonetheless, it lies in the past, and it’s time for us to move along, now…”

 

“Did someone bellow for my presence?” comes a third voice, and now Grantaire is staggering up the stairs. Marius’ mouth falls agape. “Oh, hello, Marius,” he waves, green bottle in hand.

 

Enjolras turns to him, fuming, “What the _hell_ is this?!” He sees, and gestures to the chairs and tables with a shaking hand.

 

“You see, those are called _chairs,_ my dear Apollo. You attach your rump to the seat of one; they are for _sitting,_ after all.”

 

“You know what I mean!” Enjolras hollers. He’s pacing. “You didn’t move them as I instructed you!”

 

Grantaire ignores the statement and instead turns to Marius, wiggling his eyebrows as he whispers, “If we’re lucky, he’ll rip his shirt off in anger.”

 

“Oh, be quiet, for once in your life!” he exclaims, his voice bubbling with anger, and Grantaire shrugs.

 

“The aforementioned directive is not relevant in the sense that I am no longer alive.”

 

Combeferre shakes his head, interrupting the banter with a wag of his finger, “Oh, you two, enough of this! We’re scaring poor Marius,”

 

But Enjolras is not finished, “You’re even incapable of placing pieces of _damn_ furniture on the barricade! The loyalty to the cause is nonexistent!” All Grantaire does is shrug and take a sip from his bottle.

 

Marius, on the other hand, is sighing now, “Would you three leave me to angst in my own time, please?”

 

Enjolras, trembling, snickers at him with a faulty imitation of his voice; “Well, Marius, I don’t know! You’re telling me so precisely of how to go about a situation, yet maybe I will not _listen!_ Maybe I will enact what I _want_ to do rather than follow through on a cause much bigger than myself!” he glares at Grantaire, which is to whom his sarcasm is directed.

 

“You know what else is much bigger?” Grantaire hoots, and he wiggles his eyebrows. Enjolras does a literal face-palm.

 

“Sexuality does not further our cause,” The blonde moans, “You’re despicable.”

 

“Ah, yet you did not call me despicable when you held my hand as we were blown into oblivion.”

 

Combeferre widens his eyes at this revelation, and his gaze falls onto Enjolras in a shroud of disbelief, “You did _what?!”_

“Grantaire,” he hisses, “Now is not the time.”

 

(Meanwhile, Marius is moaning and putting his head against the table. He was in the middle of a very emotionally exhausting song, and here they are, back again to interrupt his angst.)

 

“Yes, it is true; Apollo graced me with the permission to fall with him, to together become martyrs of this great world…” Grantaire takes another swig and burps.

 

“This was before I realized his inability to put damn furniture on a barricade,” Enjolras mutters in frustrated misery.

 

Combeferre chuckles, shaking his head, “Ah, Courfeyrac will practically collapse when he has heard of this – I do hope you realize what you’ve done, Enjolras.”

 

“He’s done something, alright,” Grantaire throws in, and then he winks. Enjolras takes an angry huff of breath and assumes his speech giving position, and Marius suddenly can’t take it. He looks at the three of them in disbelief, and cuts Enjolras off before he gets the chance to speak.

 

“Leave me _alone_ to angst about all of you _damn_ people and this _damn_ barricade, for God’s sake!” he shrieks, standing up and pushing the table over out of sheer anger. “It’s my turn to wallow in distraught pity! Not yours! I don’t need you guys to show up every time I cry about—“

 

But, of course, he’s interrupted by Enjolras, “…every time you _cry_ all over the furniture that was _meant to be used in the barricade.”_ Marius shakes his head, groaning, but his friend looks up at him with a strained voice, “Do you realize how hard it is to stage a revolution in heaven, Marius? Do you? No, you don’t! Because you waltzed through the barricade, took the bullets in your stride, and waited for Creepy Mystery Man to sweep you off your feet!” His friend’s face softens, and Enjolras sighs, “Sorry. Stress.”

 

Combeferre straightens up, fixing his glasses once again, and looks at Grantaire and Enjolras, “Men, it is time for us to venture back to where we came from. Marius, this has been a lovely little visit, but I’m sure you have other things to do. I do wish you luck with your little woman and all. We’ll keep in touch, shall we? Through heavenly signs and such? Oh, I don’t really know, but either way; do have a nice wedding. I apologize again on behalf of my friends.” And just as fast as they appeared, they’re gone.

 

Marius leans back for a moment, and it occurs to him that he really had no way of knowing of the whole Enjolras and Grantaire moment of angst, so how could they have been his own brain?

 

_“You look as if you’ve seen a ghost!”_

 

Marius faints.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, obviously, there was no plot, description, or proofreading. It's just my words as I laughed to myself in the dark at four in the morning. Hopefully you don't make any conclusions regarding my writing ability based solely off of this gem. :)


End file.
